


Just the Two of Us (We Can Make It If We Try)

by NETHERW4RT



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, Thanksgiving, its all tommy and tubbo focused lol, the last three character tags are only mentioned, they talk about it idk, theyre best friends your honor, yeah poggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NETHERW4RT/pseuds/NETHERW4RT
Summary: Thanksgiving isn’t something Tommy or Tubbo celebrate, but they both have a few things to be thankful for.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	Just the Two of Us (We Can Make It If We Try)

**Author's Note:**

> short thanksgiving fic *drops to the floor*  
> at least it’s not angst with them this time haha-  
> and yes i used a song for the title what’re you gonna do, sue me? exactly.

“It’s already that time of year again,” Tubbo says, swinging his legs over the edge of the ravine. Tommy is sure that they would be scolded for being reckless, leaning over the rip in the earth without a care in the world, by Phil if he found out. And he would, he always does.

“We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, Tubbo,” the blond steadily reminds him, gripping onto the side of Tubbo’s dark green sleeve. Can’t have him falling.

“I know that. But it’s just—it’s fun to celebrate things we’re thankful for, isn’t it?”

“I guess so. Not much shit to be thankful for nowadays.”

Tubbo glances towards Tommy, frowning as he twirls his fingers in the blades of grass beneath his palms. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sighs. “It—it’s been rough,” he says, looking away. “We’ve lost a lot. We’ve won a lot, too. It’s...fickle.”

“That’s a big word for you,” the brunet points out and Tommy flushes, almost shoving him before remembering where they were; he settles for a light nudge against his shoulder instead. 

“Shut up,” he mutters. “I bet you don’t even know what it means.”

“Nope.”

Tommy huffs and rolls his eyes. “Things come and go. Nothing stays forever.”

Tubbo hums and begins to move, stepping back away from the ravine. Tommy follows, careful not to lose his balance and fall backwards. “Well, we’re forever, aren’t we?”

“What?” Tommy stares at Tubbo, the heat of his hand almost upsetting as the latter pulls him up.

“We’ll be friends forever, I mean. That’s what I think.”

“You’re sure optimistic,” Tommy sputters.

“Don’t you want to be friends forever?” Tubbo’s gaze burns a hole in him and the blond lets go of his hand, brushing off nothing on his jeans. He hesitates.

“I—of course I do, Tubbo, but aren’t you afraid?”

Tubbo’s eyebrows pinch together. “Of what?”

“I don’t know, _anything_?” Tommy clenches his fists and peers across the ravine; the sun is beginning to set on the horizon line and the wind is picking up. It wouldn’t be safe to stay there much longer. “C’mon,” he says, beckoning for Tubbo to follow him along the wooden road back home. _Home_. Tommy frowns.

Tubbo follows, his stride full of tiny bounces on his heels. The soft clicking of their shoes against the wood echoes in Tommy’s ears.

“I don’t think we’ll change,” Tubbo says suddenly. “It’s always been us, right? Tommy and Tubbo, that’s how it always is.”

It takes a lot for Tommy to keep his legs moving. “Being president is a lot,” he comments. “You saw Wilbur and Schlatt.”

“So you think I’ll go insane too?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what?”

Tommy exhales and stops. “I don’t know.”

“ _Tommy_.” Tubbo holds out his hand, expression full of concern and affection; Tommy almost bursts into tears on the spot. “I’m thankful for everything here. I’m thankful for L’manberg, I’m thankful for my friends and family, I’m thankful for every single fun memory I’ve made with everyone. I’m thankful for _you_ , Tommy. You’re my best friend.”

“Awful sappy,” is all Tommy can manage without his voice wavering. He’s on the verge of tears—Tubbo really is too much sometimes. But he’d be damned if he didn’t love him. He slowly takes Tubbo’s hand in his again, then a deep breath. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my president, Tubbo. Or my best friend.”

“Look who’s sappy now,” Tubbo quips and Tommy is smiling again within an instant. He lightly jerks Tubbo’s arm to the side with the grip he has on the brunet’s hand. A pained yelp is a sign of victory.

“Thanksgiving is bullshit,” Tommy says. Tubbo raises an eyebrow, but he spares his friend no time to speak. “What’s the point in setting aside one day for thanks anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Tubbo adds quickly. Tommy shrugs him off.

“Just appreciate your friends every day, like a _real_ man.”

“Should I expect that more often, then?”

Tommy falls silent for a moment, then, “Be quiet, Tubbo.”

A soft laugh. “Sorry, Tommy.”


End file.
